The Woman of Dreams
by Ruby Casablanca
Summary: Every night, Amelia Pond has nightmares, and every night, a woman calls out to her. "Bring him home," she says, but what does that mean? Who does she mean? She can never remember. The Doctor doesn't believe that her dreams are anything to worry about, but they're getting darker, scarier, and strangest of all is what they mean when she finally figures them out.
1. Prologue

Prologue – Dreaming in Red

The red, sloping hills went on for ages, tumbling one over the other in never-ending chains. Snow capped the tops of some in the distance while others were so tall that they almost blended into the haze of the crimson, endless skies. There were two suns, one just sinking below the horizon line, the other rising into the atmosphere marking a time she wouldn't call anything except noon. The rays of warm energy beat down on her, shrouding her in an orangey veil. Everything was red; the sky, the suns, and the ground were all like swimming in a sea of fire. Everything burned in shades of maroon and orange, and she wondered that, in being ginger, if she would just disappear into the background, fade away into her natural colors, hair dragging her home. The burning was so real that she could swear she could even smell smoke.

She was walking, though she wasn't sure where. She was never sure. All she knew was that she had somewhere to be, and that could be anywhere. She didn't know where this red land was, but her feet seemed to know where they were going, Converse raking through plush scarlet grass as tall as her knee. It was as soft as velvet and thicker than any plant she had known of.

As she turned her head, she saw the trees. Oh, the trees. How she loved and feared those trees. They were burnt orange colored, matching the rest of the land's theme, save the leaves, which glimmered and shone in the daylight, a brilliant silver color which was blinding to her eyes. Glowing, like fire. Bright as the sun. A forest on fire.

She was entranced by the plants, by this strange word, that she barely noticed her journey, how far she had walked. She had travelled so far in what had only felt like moments. Her feet didn't even hurt, not a single ache or pinch. Just like always.

But that didn't stop her. Her feet weren't done, not yet. She walked, and walked, and walked, until she felt as if she would run out of land, but she never did. The trees kept on growing, increasing in size and number, narrowing her pathway until she felt engulfed by the forest of fire, lost in the silvery blaze. It scared her, how hot it got between the trees, how she could never see a thing. She suddenly remembered why she hated them.

Her feet started to run but the trees were endless, their roots growing more gnarled and complex, tripping her, their branches scratching at her. She was lost, but in a bad way this time. There was no way out, no one to see or hear her through the tangles of iron-hard leaves and limbs, all littering her hair, clawing her face. She just wanted out.

_Amy._

She stopped cold in her tracks, the voice calling out to her, so warm, so inviting, and yet so eerily familiar. Just like always. Still, she followed. She knew the voice would not harm her, but guide her out of the forest. It always did.

And just as easily as she got in, the voice led her to safety, gently guiding her out of her thorny prison and into the light. The voice always had that effect on things. It always made everything so much gentler.

Walking once more, as if nothing had ever happened, she found herself on another hill, but this hill had one major difference. If she was to look out over the horizon, she would not see any more lolling slopes. Instead, she would be greeted with the sight of a spiraling city, nearly as large as all of New York, carefully encased in a transparent dome just as graceful as the architecture held within. The city took her breath away; so much luxury, so much detail put into every corner of this grand arena, and yet, despite its beauty, it looked completely abandoned, as if no one had set foot inside it in years. The outer rims of the city bore scorched pockets as drastic as those demonstrated by atom bombs, though she knew that those did not create that destruction. Heaps of scrap metal lay in piles along the cracked dome base, the luminous shield failing at its start. She always wondered what had happened there, but she was never told. Not once.

There was something else different about this hill, something more confusing, which came in the form of a woman, her voice leading her to her. Just as always.

The woman herself was stunning, cascades of curly blonde hair adorned with flowers falling all around her, sweeping in heaps to the grass below. Her face held a glow of enthusiasm, a smile never far from her red lips, and pink, flushed cheeks. She was like a cherub, immortal in youth, and she would've mistaken her as a child had it not been for her eyes. Such sad, grieving eyes that did not match her youthful joy, eyes so deep and so blue that she could get lost in their mournful beauty, their tragic exuberance. Her eyes, so happy and sad and old at the same time, reminded her of the Doctor's eyes. They could've been the same eyes, had they not belonged to a woman, and as far as she knew, the Doctor had never been a woman.

She approached the woman with ease, as if she were someone she had known all her life, instead of someone she had only just begun to comprehend. This woman both scared and reassured her. Made her feel at peace and in mortal danger, and she never knew which one was worse. As far as she knew, they were the only two people on this strange red world. She had never met anyone else. They were alone.

_Amy._

She spoke again in her sweet, lulling voice, one so old and so peaceful that it reminded her of her favorite bedtime story, when her mum would read it nice and slow so that she had barely gotten half way through before she was out cold. She never knew how the woman knew her name, but she never questioned it either. She just let it go.

She nodded in response, moving beside the woman to see her city, the beautiful, empty city. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad, the waves of melancholy washing over her for reasons she could not explain. This always happened, just like usual.

_It's been so long Amy._

She turned to face the woman, meeting her eye to eye.

_No, it hasn't. I just saw you last night…I think…I can't remember._

The woman smiled, lips curled up full of wry humor and patronizing wisdom that she could not understand. It was almost as if she had heard this before. She had to admit, she was feeling the strangest sense of déjà vu.

_Time doesn't always move the same way for everyone._

She supposed that could be true. The woman's eyes seemed to get older and more painful which each time they met. Perhaps, for her, it had been a while.

_Why am I here?_

She asked that in a quiet voice, unknowingly afraid to make too much noise. She almost felt as if she was disturbing the dead; looking at something so old and ancient sent chills up her spine. That and she was fairly sure she already knew the answer. She had heard it far too many times to count, but she could never really remember what final words were. They were so fuzzy, so close but a million miles away.

_I have brought you here because I have something to tell you Amy_ .

The woman turned to face her again, her face gravely serious, and suddenly very old. She continued on a heavy breath.

_In my youth, I did foolish things, things that cost me everything I loved. I have to correct these wrongs._

She nodded in response, though not quite comprehending what this had to with her.

_I'm sorry and all, but what exactly does this have to do with me? How am I supposed to help?_

They were both looking into the distance, at the city, anywhere except each other, but that was mainly her fault. Amy wasn't sure what to think at the moment. She was sure had had this conversation too many times to remember, but in her failing memory, it always ended differently each time.

_You must bring him home. Bring him home and all may not be lost._

The woman said, as always. And she, as always, had not the faintest clue what the woman meant.

_But who? Bring who home?_

She pleaded, looking for some small hint, but the woman only smiled gently and placed her hand, her pale, cold hand on her shoulder.

_Bring him home Amy. Bring him back to me._

This was infuriating her. Like always.

_Who? Tell me who! _

But her yelling was no use. Her confusion remained. The woman was gone in the blink of an eye, vanished into the red, silver, and gold of the sky behind her, of the domed city in the distance. As if she was never there to begin with.

And the ground began to rumble, the velvety grass quaking and swaying under the tumultuous ground. And she watched the city crumble, fall into the abyss, the stone cracking, metal grating as timeless monuments fractured under the massive force of the earth. She could've cried as it was demolished right in front of her eyes, that beautiful abandoned city that didn't make sense, vanishing under the red mountains.

The ground spit up fire from its trenches, the red flames blending into everything else, ravaging, razing, silently demolishing everything in its path. Mountains blazed, alit with blistering forks of flame, the silver trees actually shining with firelight. She watched it all burn; the smoke was real now, too sweet with the perfume of blooms for her nose to withstand, and soon she found herself choking, struggling to breathe through the red haze.

She couldn't tell the sky from the ground from her own body. Her vision was growing hazy, and she felt the flames lick at her skin. The fire was surrounding her, but not covering her, almost as if it was capturing her in a bubble of toxic gas, forcing her to watch herself burn in the reflection of desiccating silver leaves. Maybe this was their enjoyment.

She was going to die. She knew she was. It was inevitable. She knew as soon as she started walking down her path that she would. She always does.

_Bring him home Amy. Bring him home so I can save him. So I can save us all. _

And then her world went dark.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – Between Reality and Insanity

Amy woke with a start, bolting upright in her bed, her body broken out in a cold sweat. She was breathing heavily, gasping for air, her heart beating a million miles per hour out of her chest though she couldn't really remember why. Something about fire, and smoke, and deadly silver trees. It was all too fuzzy to remember. Just like always.

Once she had gathered enough sense of awareness, she slowly looked around her, taking in her surroundings. She was in her room, on the TARDIS; Rory was in the bunk right above hers, lightly snoring through the hum of the ship. There was so much noise, she thought, but it was far too quiet. She allowed herself to exhale, her entire body collapsing in at the release of such great tension. Her stomach had knotted up in unknown fear. Whatever she had been afraid of, it was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Still, she could not go back to sleep. She stayed awake, lying down on her bed, looking up at the metal frame of the bottom of Rory's. She randomly wondered what the Doctor was up to; her thoughts always seemed to linger back on him. He never slept; she was fairly sure that he didn't even have a proper room because he stayed up so much. He was probably attempting to fix something on the consol. He was always making repairs.

Perhaps he knew why she was having these nightmares. No, they weren't nightmares. More like haunting dreams, ones that left a bad taste in her mouth when she woke up, never quite sure of what had happened but always felt too real to be fantasy. Or at least she thought. She could never be sure. But anyway, the Doctor had seen practically everything. He always knew what to do. Maybe he'd have an answer. Maybe she could actually get some real sleep for once.

Her mind made up, she quietly got out of bed, careful not to wake Rory, if waking him was even possible. The man was the heaviest sleeper she knew outside herself; she was fairly sure the TARDIS could crash land at that moment and he would still be fast asleep. Still, she tried not to let her slippered footsteps be heard as she left, softly clicking the door behind her.

All the hallways shifted as they guided her to her raggedy man. They always did that, nothing remaining in the same place it was before. She knew the ship was just trying to be helpful, but sometimes she thought the TARDIS just did that for fun, messing with them because she had no other source of entertainment outside of her walls. Finally, the halls emptied into the one she was searching for, a giant consol decorating the center of the glass-floored room. She could see the time rotors moving inside, crystals slowly pacing up and down, indicating that they were steadily hovering inside the Time Vortex, safe from any impending danger. Sometimes the Doctor was smart like that. Most times, she just got used to being on death's doorstep at every turn.

She moved over to the control panels, running her hands along the buttons she was expressly banned to touch unless she had his permission. She used to hate that rule – she never could resist a shiny red button – but after she nearly killed them twice by breaking said rule, she decided it best to listen to him, at least on that matter. She was almost temped, as she lingered over the thrusters, to catapult them somewhere, land somewhere dangerous so she could run away from her confusion, from the lady with the sad eyes, but that seemed selfish. It was just a silly dream after all.

And, as she turned about, there he was, her raggedy man, lying under the glass, tampering with some complex wiring and one dangerously pointy looking piece of equipment. He looked lost in thought, lips pressed into a firm, concentrated line, goggles strapped ontight, mussing his long brown locks. He was a hundred percent preoccupied with thought, very alien, probably ultra-scientific thought. She, herself, thought it best for her own mind's sake not to ask what he was doing, and thankfully she didn't have to. He caught sight of her almost immediately, snapping out of his reverie long enough to greet her with a smile.

"Amelia Pond! What are you doing out of bed so late?" he exclaimed, rushing up from the decks below to hug her. He almost sounded like he was chiding her, as if she was a child up past their bedtime, and she almost laughed.

"I couldn't sleep," she replied, trying her best to sound confident. At least it wasn't a total lie. There was no way she could sleep after that dream. It was a bad dream, wasn't it?

"Oh, well that's no good. What's the matter then, eh?" he asked, bouncing to his seat in front of the consol, patting the space next to him, inviting her to sit as well. She did, leaning into his arms.

"A nightmare, I think. I'm not quite sure…can't seem to remember…" she went on, trying to explain what she couldn't.

The details were slipping, and fast. It was always like this. For the longest time, she would have this dream, and moments later could remember nothing at all, as if it had never happened. For the longest time, she had kept it to herself, but now, she just wanted it to end.

"Well, it is scientifically proven that most of what we see in our minds is lost once we enter the REM cycle, so it's not uncommon for dreams to be, lost in translation so to speak," he explained, neither comforting nor alarming her. It was just his way, to explain the unnecessary. "But that must've been one nasty dream to keep you up."

"That's the thing Doctor; I don't know," she said, meeting him eye to eye. "I've been having this dream, the same dream, always the same, where…well, I don't know exactly, but I know it's the same! I'm walking, walking for what feels like forever, and then there is this woman, just standing there, waiting for me, and she tells me, she tells me…"

"Tells you what Amy?" the Doctor asked, worry lining his voice though he kept it greatly subdued. She can tell though. She knows him well enough now that she knows this isn't normal, that he is genuinely concerned for her.

"She tells me to 'bring him home'. Never a name, never anything else, just that. Bring him home."

She looked away and shook her head. Visions of that woman came pouring back into her mind, but they were blurry, making her head spin. Other words escaped the woman's lips, but they were too distorted to read. Words all lost to her dreams until she dreamed them up again. It scared her.

"Hmm. And what did she look like, this woman?" the Doctor asked seemingly more out of humoring her than anything else. Did he think she was crazy?

"Well, God, she was beautiful. I mean, really, like crazy beautiful. I was actually a tad bit jealous the first time I saw her to be honest. Really long blonde hair and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. They reminded me of yours actually."

"How?" he asked, genuinely amused and confused at the same time. "Last time I checked, these eyes were brown…I think. I can never be sure eleven regenerations down the line."

Amy laughed a little bit at his sweet disposition. He was so clueless sometimes.

"I don't know. They were just so old. Old and young and sad at the same time."

The Doctor was silent after that, joking draining from his expression, staring her down, trying to comprehend what she was saying. A lot of this didn't make sense to him, yet this was what was puzzling him: A dream she could barely remember yet the woman in it she could picture clearly. Old, sad eyes, just like _his_. That really made his mind stretch. It was almost like…no. That was impossible; at least it was now.

"Doctor, what does it mean? What's wrong with me?" she said softly, bringing him back to the present.

Honestly, he was startled and a tad bit appalled that she would even think something like that. It was so Scottish.

"Amy, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, do you hear me?"

He leaned over her, holding her face in his hands to place a kiss on her forehead. He had a severe look of force on his face as he made her believe she was fine, but somewhere deep inside her, she suspected she wasn't. Of course, he would never tell her that. He was still prone to keeping too much secret, even things he knew better than to hide from her.

"Does Rory know?" he asked suddenly, breaking her tumultuous thoughts.

"What?" she said, not really paying much attention by that point, still too focused on what he wasn't telling her.

"The dreams. Does Rory know about the dreams?" he asked again, playfulness all but gone from his face. He was dead serious.

"No, he doesn't know. You're the only one I've told."

He nodded, head turned away, calculating or formulating something unknown. It was a long while before he finally spoke again.

"Amy, I think it's best if you don't tell him. Just keep this between us."

"What? Why!? I thought you said these were just dreams? Nothing to worry about, nothing weird."

She was genuinely shocked now, and panic clenched her heart. Why would the Doctor ask her to keep secrets from Rory? Was there something more wrong than she thought?

"Of course, of course! You're absolutely fine!" he exclaimed with fervor, sensing her unease. "But, there's no need to upset him right? Especially over nothing. You know Rory, always worrying over you. And why wouldn't he? You, Amelia Pond, are a girl worth worrying over."

He said the last part in a teasing tone, the carefree Doctor returning to his demeanor, and Amy really couldn't help but smile. His smiles were contagious, had the properties of making anyone feel at ease. They were sitting there, her across from him, both of them grinning, her a little hesitantly, but he was succeeding in brightening her mood. She was actually feeling better enough to ignore whether what he had just said was a tease or a warning. Did she really need to be worried about? No, she thought. She was fine. No need to get so worked up over a silly dream.

"Oh, and Amy, there is something else I wanted to say, just that-"

The Doctor was cut off by a clanging down the hall, startling the two who had become very close in the past few minutes. The clanging grew louder and louder until it produced Rory, a little bedraggled, hair messied and sticking up in various places, but otherwise just as awkward as usual. It made Amy warm inside, her fear subsiding almost completely as she saw her wonderful idiot of a husband stumbling across the room to meet them. The Doctor had gotten up to wish him a good morning, while she still sat on the chair, smiling at him from afar.

"'Morning Rory!"

"'Morning…" he replied, a tad bit off guard. He wasn't used to being in the consol room so early, especially when both the Doctor and Amy could see him in his bath robes. He was a tad bit embarrassed actually.

"What were you two talking about?" he asked, wiping sleep from his eyes.

Amy was a little taken aback, not quite sure how to answer Rory's question. She was about to give some lame excuse, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, but the Doctor jumped in and saved her, ambling a mile a minute as usual.

"Oh, nothing. Amy was just telling me about a dream she was having. It's all good now, no problem, nothing to worry about. Everything is fine, just fine."

Rory eyes the Doctor, not assured by this explanation. Most things the Doctor said he never really took at face value. He turned his attention on her, his eyes questioning and concerned.

"You alright Amy? I woke up and you were gone from your bunk. Thought something was wrong. And then I heard you two talking in here and…"

"I'm fine really," she said, grinning at him, breathing deeply. "You can stop your fussing."

She got up and walked over to her fretful husband, plating a kiss on his lips. She could tell he was pleasantly surprised, softly returning the kiss with a cautious love. He never knew how far he could push things with her, how far he could take even the simplest of things, like this kiss.

"I'm fine." She repeated, hands looped around his neck, easing his mind.

He nodded, smiling, believing her all too easily, and she felt horrid. She was lying to him, right to his face. She might have been okay but she wasn't fine at all.

"Now, come on Mr. Pond. Let's go get dressed." She teased, running her fingers through his hair, making him slightly blush. "As much as I love those jammies of yours, I don't think they're cut out for running."

"Yes, yes Ponds, go change! Lots of places to go, things to see!"

The Doctor made his presence known again, dashing about like a gangly, drunken giraffe, pulling levers and pushing buttons, making his ship lurch and shake. They were beginning their journey into the unknown once more, and adrenaline automatically rushed through her veins, even though this time it wasn't exactly wanted. She just wanted time to erase this whole ordeal, to actually spend time with her husband for once, but she supposed that she loved the travelling as well. It was just as therapeutic. Just as likely to make her forget.

The pair made their exit, hand in hand, joined at the hip. It hurt her to let him go, saying she would be there in a moment, that she forgot her robe. He smiled at her, kissing her cheek, disappearing back through the door in which he came previously.

She turned away, looking back at the Doctor who had stopped in his tracks, leaning over the consol, staring at the monitor, tracking their flight path. He sighed, stepping back towards Amy, looking so much older than he should.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said in a low voice.

"Of course," he said softly, embracing her. "Now go. Your centurion awaits."

He gestured to the door, smiling a little at the corner of his lips, a look she reciprocated. But as she turned to leave, something made her stop, remembering something important.

"Doctor, what were you going to tell me before Rory came in?"

The Doctor looked up, at bit taken aback that she had actually remember what he had said. He had hoped she would've been distracted enough to forget.

"Oh, nothing. I was just going to say that your closet door may be jammed. The old girl has been having some problems." He lied through his teeth with a smile, even though it hurt to lie to his best friend. "Been up all night trying to fix it. Timey-wimey stuff and all that…"

He slightly gestured to where he had been before, under the consol, the wires and tools strewn about in hopes to convince her. He didn't really want to tell her what he was thinking. No, it was clear she was worried enough as it was.

Thankfully for him, she seemed to believe him, shaking her head at him.

"Well, don't take too long now." She sauntered over to him, gently punching his chest. "You promised me an adventure."

She flashed him one of her devil-may-care smiles, and he laughed in relief. She was always, and would forever be, the biggest flirt he had ever known.

"Yeah, well, you know me. Never on time for anything. Too much to do." He sighed, a light smile on his lips. "Now go get ready Pond! My goodness! At this rate _I'll_ be waiting up for _you_!"

"Ha! Yeah, you wish."

With that, she took her leave, leaving him alone with his ship. Once she was out of view, definitely gone from earshot, he practically sprinted to the computer, frantically punching in numbers, desperately trying to sort things out. He ran a full scan on his ship. There was no way. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.

The monitor beeped. The results were back. He held his breath.

And nothing. Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Everything was as it should be, but that only made things so much stranger, so much scarier.

He looked down at his ship, gently placing a hand on the consol, careful as to not upset anything. He was so unsure about this.

"What's going on old girl? What happening to Amy?"


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Angels and Demons

"Alright! Here we are Ponds! Castros 37, home to the largest grown foods in the entire universe! They literally have skyscrapers woven out of cornstalks, entire roads paved in licorice! Can't you just smell it all?!" the Doctor exclaimed enthusiastically, talking at a mile per second. Per minute, Amy decided was entirely too slow a measure for him, but still, he continued, not even catching a breath. "Founded by humans in the thirtieth century, and after some much-needed help by a certain someone, this planet became the center of thirty-second century agriculture, the hub for cuisines from all across the universe…that is until it catches fire in the next millennia. I swear I had nothing to do with that."

Amy shot him an amused look, her body still half-way out the TARDIS, taking it all in.

"Uh-huh, sure. Just like you didn't start that fire in Amelia Earhart's plane?"

"Oh, come on now! She was fine, a little out of place in the fifty-third century, but I apologized!" the Doctor got all flustered, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Besides, I thought you said you wouldn't mention that."

"Well, Rule One doesn't just apply to you now does it?"

The Doctor made a face at her, his visage contorting into weird shapes, and had Rory not walked past her and onto the rock-candy floor beside him, he would've come up with something clever to respond with. He shot her a glare, indicating that this conversation was far from over, the battle not hers to claim victory on, at least not yet. She reciprocated a look that accepted his challenge, and for a moment, Rory was utterly lost.

"Umm, okay? So, Doctor, why are we here?" He asked, wringing his hands, a nervous habit the Doctor had picked up on.

"For fun of course! Why else would I take you to a place made entirely up of food?"

He gave Rory a confounded look, as if her were daft for asking such an 'obvious question'.

"Well, it's just that, wherever we end up going, there always seems to be well, complications…"

"Complications? What kind of complications?" the Doctor grew a tad bit more aggressive, almost defensive, eyeing Rory down as he moved in closer.

"Well, I-I-" Rory stuttered, not used to being psychoanalyzed all the time, even if it was only the Doctor.

"What my husband is trying to say is, is that there is always an ulterior motive to our little trips. Always some reason we end up where we do. Nothing is ever 'just for fun.'" Amy said, breaking them up and jumping to Rory's rescue.

"That is not true! I am the King of Fun, the Fun Master. No, scratch that! Never the master, never again will I want to hear…ugh, master. Horrible name." The Doctor shuddered a little though Amy did not know why. But that wasn't important.

"Doctor, we know you well enough by now; I've been travelling with you for years. There's always something."

"Come on you two, bunch of downers! We are on the only planet where they have fifty foot long hotdogs, a life size replica of Appalapachia's famous gardens made of _cheese_, and lakes of pure hypervodka, not that I would recommend going there. Nasty stuff. Horrible side effects, though Jack surely seemed to take a liking to it. Should've brought him here. At least he knows how to have a good time!"

The Doctor was pacing about like he did when he was ticked, or cornered, or both, and right now looked like both to Amy. He was waving his arms about, all gangly and flailing, moving without coordination. They almost looked like limp fish, flopping in the air.

"Doctor," she sighed. She gave up on trying to interpret his babble long ago. She never connected about half the references he made anyway; it was as if he was speaking from a different life, and it made Amy a little sad at times, like he wasn't really there, just trapped in the past.

He halted, looking defeated, caught in his own scheme.

"Fine. Yes, I did come here for a reason; it's not just some fun little touristy trip, though it could be for you two."

"I'm sorry, what?" Rory asked incredulously.

"You two don't have to come along. It's all a bit boring, mostly timey-wimey, boring talking, grown-up boring stuff that holds no interest to you."

She lost track of how many times he said the word boring. He was babbling again, and Amy fought the urge to slap him.

"Well now, that just makes me want to go more." She said indignantly, pulling away from Rory's arms to square her chest against his. "Because if there's one thing you're not, it's boring."

"Amy, really, I am just meeting an old friend, someone from a really long, long time ago. No one you would know, so there is no reason for you to come with me!" he threw his hands up in surrender, smiling a bit as he did so. "Besides, you two are just two more people I have to keep track of. I could use a break! And you two could use a break from me! I can tell; just look at Rory's face!"

Amy glanced over at Rory. He did look a little irked, a little tired of her games, but other than that he looked same as usual. That was not enough to convince her.

"I don't believe you," she smirked, getting closer and closer.

And then his face grew harder, lines settling in places where they shouldn't have, aging and toughening him, making him appear so much colder than he really was. He was losing his patience and his willingness to keep up her charade, fast.

"Amy, I am asking you not come with me. Please."

He looked kind, as if he genuinely was asking politely, but in the corners of his eyes she could see the darkness, the absolute command that was ordering her to stay behind. It was hidden under layers of love and compassion for her, but she knew that even he had limits for her teasing.

She took a step back towards Rory, letting him wrap his arm over her shoulders possessively, almost to say to the Doctor "lay off my girl". She would've laughed had the tension not been so high. She didn't think that laughing at them would be an appropriate way to break it.

"Fine." She swallowed, trying to analyze him, grabbing at as many secrets she could muster before he totally shut her out again. There was something he wasn't telling her, something important. She could see it in his eyes, his concern for her evident. She just wished he would tell her what was wrong, especially if it pertained to her, which she already knew it did.

"We'll stay here. But don't be getting into any trouble now! You are our ride home after all."

He smiled at her, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, a sign that he had already been pushed beyond his limits for the day. But still, he kept on looking as cheery as he could without being absurd.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He turned to leave, spinning on his heels and making the floors squeak a little, tiny particles of crystalized sugar rising at his feet to settle on his shoes. He was about a few steps into his awkward gait when he spun back around like before, a look of realization dawning on his face.

"Oh, and Rory! Look after Amelia will you?"

Rory again looked a tad but stricken, but this time, it was more in confusion than fear of interrogation.

"Of course," He never needed to be reminded to take care of his wife. He never willingly let her out of his sight.

"Good."

And with that, he spun around again, a small smirk playing on his taught lips. The couple both wondered what that was about, but again, they thought it best to let it go. Trying to understand the Doctor was like trying to understand quantum physics. No matter how simple something was said to be, it always made their heads spin.

"So," Rory said, turning towards Amy, looking much more relaxed now that the Doctor had left. "We have this whole planet to ourselves. Where do you want to start?"

His smile lit up his face which was glowing with boyish excitement. Sometimes Amy forgot how new he was to all this; he had only been travelling with the Doctor for a little while. Everything was so new to him. He wasn't as jaded as she was to the adventure. Sure, it was still new and fun and exciting, but after a while, a planet was just a planet, an alien was just an alien, and the stars were just stars. Once she had seen a few, she had sworn she had seen them all. The only part she really looked forward to now was the adventure, the running and screaming for her life that actually made her feel alive, and the Doctor was taking that away from her. She didn't like it, not at all.

But still, what good would moping do about it? All it would do is bring down Rory's good mood. He looked so happy to be let free from the danger, to actually spend time with her somewhere tally new. No, she could be happy, if not for her own sake then for the sake of her husband.

"I don't know. You lead the way." She smiled up at him, leaning into him just a little more. The people there were starting to stare, obviously not accustomed to such affection as most aliens weren't, but Amy didn't care. She just wanted her husband to be happy.

"Really?" he asked, wide-eyed, as if the possibility of actually being in control was a foreign concept, and it kind of was travelling with the Doctor. He was in charge, and that was universally understood, seeing as though he was the only one who could fly and operate his time-machine, albeit poorly.

"Really. It's your choice this time Mr. Pond."

"Well then Mrs. Williams, follow me."

He extended his arm to her, which she took with a grin, and they both practically ran out of the hallway in the opposite direction of the Doctor, ready for whatever adventure lay ahead.

* * *

The Doctor hated lying to Amy, he really did. It physically hurt him to play her like that, but he really didn't have the time to explain the complexities of his current situation in language that she could comprehend, nor could he tell her and risk upsetting her even further than she already clearly was, though he had the feeling that she was forgetting that the dream had even happened to her by this point. Honestly, he was having trouble remembering what she had said to him as well. Did she even tell her about the dream? Was there a dream at all?

_Yes of course there was a dream you idiot! _The Doctor chided himself mentally. _You can't forget! You must remember, for Amy!_

And he kept that thought inside his head as he maneuvered his way through crowded bazaars and city streets. There were so many people on this tiny planet; races from all across the galaxies had come here for one purpose, to trade food. It was amazing to him how totally different species could come together like this, mindless of each other's religion or politics. It was frankly fantastic.

But he had no time for side trips. He was here for only one purpose, and that was to get to the bottom of Amy's dreams. At least he didn't tell her a complete lie. He said he was going to meet and old friend, but truthfully, he was really in the mood for making a new friend, one he had heard has a penchant for bad dreams.

Why did he need to know about bad dreams?

_STOP IT! _He commanded his mind.

Rassilon! This was possibly the strongest memory filter he had ever experienced, one that not only influenced Amy, but influenced others a well, and that was what had been concerning him. Why would Amy put up a memory filter, especially one so powerful? It wasn't like she was Rory with 2000 years of history running through his head, two separate lives going on at the same time. Sure, Rory had implanted memory barriers and filters to keep himself from going mad, with his help of course, but Amy honestly had no reason. That only left the possibility that someone had placed the barrier in Amy's mind, but when he ran the scan on the TARDIS, the results came back negative. There had been no tampering with Amy's mind, even on the sub-telepathic level. He was literally clueless on where to start with this and he was not ready to admit that Amy was going insane, because the barrier was definitely there. He was grasping for straws, something he was not used to, and it was setting him on edge. He feared he may have been too mean to Amy earlier, but he could apologize later, once he knew what was going on. He had to consult an expert.

He kept on walking, clearing his mind every so often to keep him remembering about why he was there, why he had to keep going. After heading down a few rougher alleys and streets, he ended up in what appeared to be a black-market type set up. Products were shrouded behind merchants in dark cloaks, hiding their faces from view. The buyers didn't look so friendly, high-grade weapons clearly exposed as a sign of warning to thieves and wandering eyes. The Doctor would've been intimated had he not been through this about a million times before. Now, this was all but a joke he had to refrain from laughing at.

Still, he knew he was in the right place. Anyone with this kind of expertise was surely up to no good, and surely could make a good penny off of it in this kind of place. It made him sick almost, the thought of such helpful knowledge wasted for the fact of sheer profit. Hopefully, the Doctor wouldn't have to make too much trouble to get what he needed.

From across the street, a tall, lithe figure under a blue cloak leaned up against a stand, sapphire eyes gleaming at him from afar. The Doctor stood a little straighter, moving from his wall to follow the stranger who had moved quickly down the adjacent alleyway and vanished into the darkness. He tracked the person quickly, matching their steps perfectly in synch. He ran after the person for what felt like miles, running down alley after alley, each one becoming narrower and narrower until it emptied out into a dead end, no one in sight.

The Doctor grew furious, his face set in hard, unforgiving lines. He didn't like being messed with, not when it came to his friend's safety.

There was a clanging in the background, the sound of metal scraping against iron-hard licorice streets. Chains clinked together in the wind, and the warmth of a torch light was less than a hundred feet behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know he was being ambushed. There were six of them, at least, all male and none friendly, at least not yet. He knew as soon as he turned, they would either try to attack him or kidnap him, neither they would succeed with, but they didn't know that yet. They didn't know him.

So, he turned around with confidence, a thin smile on his face forced out to be polite. He had to offer them a chance.

"Hello," he said through a strained pleasantness. He really just wanted to yell at them. "I was just following a friend down here, someone who owes me something very important. Seems as though I have lost him. Any chance you can help me? I'm rather in a hurry."

The few he could see were smirking; the largest, whom he assumed was the leader of this pathetic pack, looked to be Raefian, the intricate markings on his pale blue face giving him away despite the shadowy darkness. He knew the Raefian race well, having fought with them in the Time War. A seemingly harmless race of miners, their planet was devestated and depleted in the very beginning of the war, converting the surviving people into pirates, space smugglers and arms dealers. He wondered what a Raefian could possibly be doing this far west in the galaxy, and especially why it wanted anything to do with him.

The others he could not distinguish, and he could not see the tall figure with the blue eyes either, though he had a feeling that they were close by. This was growing to be a pain.

"Listen, I don't know who you are or what you want, but trust me, you don't have to do this."

The Raefian laughed, throwing his head back, his hood falling to reveal more swirling tattoos. The others moved in closer, making a tight ring around him, a few stragglers marking their places on the rooftops above.

"I'm sure we can settle this diplomatically."

The Doctor was on his last straw of patience. He was not in the mood to gamble with thieves. He had promised Amy he would stay out of trouble, and he intended to.

"Diplomacy?" one spat "Hah! There is no diplomacy here! Only credits speaks here, and you reek of credits!"

"Yes, our scanners say you are carrying something very valuable, something precious that we would like to _acquire_." The Raefian hissed in a low, raspy voice.

The Doctor let out a snort, his smile half gone in annoyance.

"And what would that be?" His voice bordered on dangerous.

"Time Lord DNA."

The Doctor was stricken, though he didn't let it show.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"We don't know how you acquired it, or how it's even possible, but DNA as rare as that is worth a fortune!" the Raefian said, a little louder than last time.

"I can think of at least ten races that would kill to get their hands on just a strand of those genes. We would live like kings!" another added, eagerly awaiting his prize no doubt.

The Doctor found all this amusing. Oh, they were so daft.

"Do you know how completely insane you're sounding right now? Time Lord DNA? The Time Lords are fantasy, bed time stories you tell little children. What you think I have is impossible!" he laughed, lying so easily he was momentarily shocked.

"Heh, I don't think so," the Raefian scoffed. "See, I've known Time Lords; I fought beside them in the Great War, before they got blown to bits. They're real, or they were, and I'm sure the price they'll fetch now is just as real."

The Raefian smiled, revealing rows of sparkling platinum teeth, another defining trademark of the race. However, this one's teeth were pointy, as if filed purposely to be fangs. He supposed that was an attempt to be intimidating, scary, but it would take a lot more than pointy teeth for the Doctor to admit fear.

The gangers surrounding him were all snickering. Clearly he would get nowhere using rationale, using his oh so persuasive voice of reason. These men were beyond reason, driven only by greed and profit. He'd have to try a different approach, and fast.

"So you want Time Lord DNA?" the Doctor chuckled darkly as they grew even closer, just a few steps from being face to face. "Well, what if I say I'm not in the mood to sell any?"

They all laughed sinisterly, slowly entrapping him.

"Oh, don't worry. We have ways of getting people to give us what we want."

"And what if you don't like it?"

The Doctor was taunting the Raefian, now eye to eye only feet away. He could see the glimmer in his golden eyes sparkling mischievously. Surely this man was dangerous, but that only made the Doctor press on. He loved a challenge.

"What if you find out what you're looking for is too much…trouble?"

"Oh, I highly doubt that," he hissed, pressing the blade of a sword to the Doctor's chest. "How much trouble could a dead man be?"

"Who ever said I was dead?"

The Raefian stepped back a step, a tad bit confused, giving the Doctor just enough time to do what he did best, make a mess. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, blasting the place with sound, shattering the crystalline windows above into bits, showering wickedly sharp shards of sugary glass down onto the thieves, sending them running. He kicked it up a notch, the intense sound making the crates to his left implode into colorful ramparts of flaming food particles, scaring away the rest of the ruffians, all of them vanishing into the settling dust, leaving him alone with the Raefian.

The Raefian wasn't doing too well. His face was scratched and sprinkled with dots of blood. He was disoriented from the blast, knocked over on his back, his cloak torn to bits. He was flailing to get up, and as he charged at the Doctor, he was easily knocked down again, this time harder and on his back. The Doctor grabbed his plasma blade and snapped it in two, throwing the pieces across the alley. He hated weapons; they made him sick. The Raefian was scrambling to get away, but the Doctor sped towards him, picking him up by the scruff of his collar, taking in all the fear evident in the man's wide eyes.

The Doctor held him close so that the man could see the rage that lied within, the danger that came from pissing him off, and it became evident to him that he was in much deeper trouble than he realized.

"Now, let's try this again. You are going to tell me where I can find the man I was following. You will tell me where he went and you are going to do it now because I am asking nicely. You don't want me to ask you again."

The Doctor's voice was barely a whisper, and barely human whisper at that. He sounded demonic, cruel. The man was shaking, but he didn't say a word. The Doctor had to fight the urge to throttle him.

"Listen. You don't want me as your enemy. Trust me, you really don't. Now, I promised someone very close to me that I wouldn't get into trouble, and you are making that very difficult, so if you would be so kind as to answer. The. QUESTION!"

He shouted the last word in the trembling man's face, dropping him to the ground with a sickening thud to scramble once more. His patience had snapped and only rage remained. He was so done with doing things the nice way, the right way. Sometimes, the Oncoming Storm way was best.

"He-he went that way, down Maize Street. He owns a basement shop, Number 23. That's all I know."

The Raefian was still trying to gather his bearings, but the Doctor wasn't convinced. He advanced on the scared man, only to make him cower back down in front of him.

"I swear! That's all I know, I swear! Please, don't hurt me!"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, his hearts clenching. This man was literally curled into a ball at his feet, begging for mercy because he had made him so afraid. He had broken this man in a matter of minutes, and the results were horrifying. Was this really what he was like without anyone to stop him? Some rage monster with no means of self-control. He melted into self-loathing and pity, his rage all but gone, replaced by sadness. This thief may have deserved punishment, but not this.

The Doctor turned away, walking down the instructed street, when he heard a small voice behind him, the voice of the Raefian.

"Wh-where are you going?"

"To find the man I'm looking for."

"What are you going to do to him?" he asked fearfully.

The Doctor sighed, another wave of anguish washing over him.

"Nothing. I just want to talk to him," he replied solemnly.

He turned to face the once-fearless Raefian now hiding in the street, hiding from him. He looked so pathetic, so afraid of him that his hearts nearly reached out in comfort, but he then remembered what had happened, and they hardened again, but not completely.

"I'm sorry. Really, I truly am sorry, but I did warn you,"

And with that, the Doctor turned to make his final exit, ready to be done with this planet.

"What are you?!" he heard the Raefian shout, his low voice resonating down the narrow corridors, but he didn't stop.

He didn't answer because at the moment, he just didn't know.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This is sort of a transition chapter. It was meant to be longer, but after I reached the 4,000 word mark I realized that I wouldn't make anyone suffer a 10,000+ word chapter because there are more adventures in Castros 37 to come. This part of the story is one of the main segments. So, I hope you stick it out, and enjoy this chapter! Reviews are wonderful, especially for telling me what I need to improve on, what you'd like to see, etc... :)

* * *

Chapter 3 – A Tale of Two Cities 

"Wow."

That seemed to be the only thing Amy had been capable of saying for the entire day, or however long they had been on Castros 37. And honestly, it seemed to be the only word fit to describe this place. Everything they had seen had never ceased to amaze her, and just when she thought the planet couldn't get any cooler, Rory would jump to prove her wrong.

In just a few hours, they'd taken the Doctor's advice and seen the cheese gardens, taken a ferry ride down a river made of clear, sparkling water- there were even rock candy crystals growing on the bottom-, braved new dishes in the market place –or at least she did. Rory refused to try the alien-squid called paraboush, which was actually quite delicious- where they rambled about for a while, and now, they stood on top of the Gelatinous Mountains, overlooking the entire city scape below. Under the frosted crystal floor she stood on, the entire range quaked beneath her, soft and squishy like Jell-O. It glared in a myriad of colors with the setting suns, all four of them sinking at different rates so that the mountains glinted and glittered like rainbow diamonds. It was so ridiculous that it was fantastic. The entire planet was quite surreal, and she found herself surprised that her sense of wonder for the universe had been restored, if only in that moment.

She looked up at her husband, grinning like a kid at Christmas before breaking out laughing. He reciprocated the laugh, he himself blown away by the sheer existence of this place._ How were they even there? _She thought_. How does this happen?_ At times, she still just had to stand back and ask herself those questions, because without the Doctor, she would never have even gotten to see this place. All these impossible things happened to her, and that fact made her impossible as well. Sometimes she even felt alien. As much as she knew, she swore she could be to some extent.

She moved over to lean into his outstretched embrace, her body melting into his like they were made for each other, a perfect fit even after all this time.

"Can I just say, Mrs. Williams, that you were right? The travelling, though dangerous as it is, does have its perks." Rory whispered into her ear, eliciting girlish giggles from her lips.

"Really? This coming from the man who can't function without a set schedule? Who just earlier said that he hated all the uncertainty?" she teased back, calling his bluff.

"Well, I'm admitting it. I'm a hypocrite. I only like the travelling when it suits me."

"And what about now? Does it _suit you_, Mr. Pond?"

She looked up into his eyes, which were frowning at the mention of his Doctor-deemed nick-name. She knew he didn't much care for the Doctor, at least not yet, but she couldn't resist. It was too perfect of a moment, and after a split-second of silence, Rory drew her in even closer. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent like a drug. It sent chills up her spine.

"Yes," he whispered into her ear, brushing his cheek against hers. "It suits me very well."

"Rory…"

"Hmmm…"

"They're staring at us… again…"

"Right."

He sighed and gave up, at least for the moment, to romance his wife. After all, this wasn't the most ideal location either.

As always, all the other people around them were staring, trying to inquire just what they found so funny yet so romantic at the same time, but they would never understand. All they could do was pass the strange travelers by, shoot them looks and tell them to behave and hope they were sane, because all the explaining in the world would never be enough. They could never understand the complexities of nearly every single thing in their lives. Besides, how could they ever make anyone understand the Doctor?

Still, in an attempt to regain their propriety, the Ponds straightened up and reveled in the impossibility in silence. It was difficult, but the view made things easier. They could see everything, the entire city and the cities beyond were exposed to them. She had no idea how far up they were, but she guessed pretty high if they were able to see that much. It was breathtaking really, and she wondered if Earth had any views like this. She almost laughed at herself for that one. She had seen nebulas, stars, spaceships, moons, planets, and entire galaxies, but never even bothered to explore her own planet. She guessed that's what she would call ironic.

Rory appeared to be having the same thoughts, because as he faced her, his eyes contained the same kind of confusion, joy, and sadness. So much to remember, so much to keep straight and do, but they would never have enough time to do it all. They were only human after all. They would have to be satisfied with the view they had right now, not wishing for another. Besides, when would she ever get to see this again? Never. She knew that for a fact. The Doctor didn't do repeats. And right in that moment, she was kind of glad the Doctor was away. That meant she got to revel in her human awe just a little while longer before everything was shot to hell, and everything always did. Nothing was ever safe. Not ever.

But she was safe now, wrapped in Rory's arms on top of Jell-O mountains, and what more could she really ask for? She had all she ever wanted: a loving husband, her best friend, an exciting life. Now if only she could get her headaches to go away…strange, she hadn't even noticed she had a headache until now.

"Amy," Rory said gently, pulling her away from her thoughts, "You alright? You were looking a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just…the height gettin' to me. I think it's making me a little dizzy."

And just as soon as she said that, her whole body shook and she fell over to the side, her balance suddenly gone as if someone had pulled a rug out from under her. She felt Rory catch her in mid fall, her body slumping against his as she tried to focus. Her vision was blurry, as if she were seeing double. No, two things at once. There was chaos and screaming in one perspective mixed with her husband's frantic voice trying to call her out of her trance in the other. She was sure she was causing a right scene about now.

The pounding in her head grew louder and louder as if it was trying to force its way out of her skull. The double vision fuzzed and faded, completely blacking out. She couldn't see. She was blind. Her eyes were closed, but she felt too alert. Something was wrong.

She hit the floor hard, but she couldn't feel the crash. She couldn't feel a thing.

* * *

The Doctor managed to hold his tongue and his temper long enough to locate the place he had been searching for all along, the person he was supposed to meet in the first place, before his plans got _messy_. But that was behind him now. No use dwelling on the past; it's not like he could change anything. Interference in his own past was strictly prohibited, no matter how badly he wanted to fix things. Despite the rough patch he had run into earlier, he had managed to clear his head and arrive at Number 23 Maize Street.

The door looked as if it had been opened recently, the smeared grease marks on the frame fresh and most likely served as a silent entrance and a burglar alarm. The grease was both slick and messy, and the Doctor had to stop to commend this person, whoever they were, for their cunning. Though he didn't like it much, the man did have skills; leading him into a gang circles, setting up inconspicuous traps. He would make a fun person to play hide-and-go-seek with, the Doctor determined. It was ever so hard to find opponents who didn't try to hide in the bathtub first. It got quite dull after a while...

But no matter. The Doctor was there on business to help Amy (if she even needed help), something that he had to remind himself more than he should have. It was as if his mind was forcing him to forget about Amy's dreams and he had to keep vomiting them up to make sure he could remember at least the major details, concerns, problems, and at the moment, the problems weren't coming to him.

He silently cursed under his breath for being so lazy. He couldn't very well go into that very shady-looking shop with Rassilon-knows-who without knowing what he was looking for. He didn't know what the underground life on Castros 37 was like; he could be gutted and sold as a delicacy if he made a misstep. He physically slapped himself just to reiterate the point, but it actually seemed to help, more of the earlier parts of the day returning to the forefront of his mind.

Geronimo.

Abandoning fear, he slammed the door open, the old wooden fixture creaking and squeaking under his force, no doubt another alarm. Dust rose up around him with the gust of wind he had created, obscuring what lied inside the building. He didn't care anymore. He walked right into the unknown confident, ready to do whatever he had to do for Amelia's safety. However, as the smoke cleared and his vision restored, he was surprised at what he saw.

The place was completely empty.

There was no furniture, no shelves, no windows, and no nothing. Most of all, there was no one in sight. The floor was made up of dirt of some sort, the walls composed of a hardened gummy substance. It was dark and dank, a small, rusted lantern hanging from the ceiling the only light in the place. The Doctor immediately felt his rage return. He had been duped once already; he wasn't in the mood to play this game again.

"Listen. I don't know who you are, or what you want, but you have made me a very desperate man. A _very_ desperate man. And if you don't stop this, if you don't stop playing games then you're going to find out just how desperate I can be. And believe me, you won't like what you find."

His voice was low and threatening, but at this point he didn't care. He was livid, the anger building after every second of silence that followed his silent threat.

"This is the last time I'm asking."

He was border-line growling, fists clenched at his sides, itching to sonic the place. But he couldn't. He had already drawn too much attention to himself with his previous explosion. There was nothing, no response. Just silence. He could've broken something…or someone had they been around.

Perhaps the Raefian had tricked him, given him a fake address to throw him off, possibly in revenge. He swore to himself. He should've known better than to trust a space thief, especially one as ruthless as a Raefian. Now he was lost, back to ground zero, stuck on a planet that he didn't know with no way to help Amy. And he still had to find her, wherever she and Rory had wandered off to.

Could this day have gotten any worse for him?

Defeated and angry as hell, he turned to leave. There was nothing left for him there; there was nothing left there for him, and honestly he could've cried. He had tried so hard, even made Amy and Rory leave so that they would stay out of danger, so Rory wouldn't have to worry about Amy for once. He already felt like he owed Rory something for everything he had put him through with the Pandorica situation, and failing to help Amy now felt like he was failing Rory as well. It was a crushing blow, to let Amy live with nightmares and filters in her mind. He hated having to tell her he couldn't save her.

"Are you always this pleasant?"

A silky tenor voice called from behind. The Doctor froze in place, spinning rapidly to face the cloaked figure that had magically appeared in front of him. He didn't know how he had managed to get into the room, no places to hide, no doors or windows to enter. He was both confused and enraged at the same time.

"_You,_" the Doctor hissed, his vision going red with anger.

"Because I must say, that entrance was quite terrifying. You almost had me shaking. Almost."

He could see the figure smirking underneath its hooded head. He was being mocked, which only infuriated him more.

"What kind of game do you think you're playing?!"

He charged the person, head pounding, only to be held back, a roughly humanoid hand with long, silver talon-like nails tapping on his chest, stopping his body where it was. He almost fell over at the sheer force of the push.

"Ah, ah, ah," the hand pulled away to wag a finger at him, as if chiding him. "That's not very nice now is it? You are a guest in my home after all."

The Doctor glared at the figure, a deep frown forming on his lips as he brushed off his coat jacket. It had gathered quite a layer of grime over the hours, that and he was out of things to occupy his hands with. If he let them rest still, he was sure he would end up strangling the person in front of him.

"Fine." He said in a low voice.

"Good," the person under the cloak was smiling still. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to follow me."

And they turned back into the room, though there was nowhere to go. It was empty, just like it had been before. If this was another trap, the Doctor couldn't even fathom how much pain and suffering would be inflicted on this creature in front of him.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked cautiously through a locked jaw.

"Still tense are we?" the person quipped instead, but the Doctor wasn't having it. The person sighed in reply. "Patience."

The scowl returned to his face as the door shut behind him, another cold gust of air whipping around the room, trapping him in this dark place with the stranger he didn't trust as far as he could throw them. The room was nearly midnight black, save for the flickering lantern; it was just him and the hooded figure with their back to him. The whole situation reeked of danger, a problem for sure.

But, just as soon as he was about ready to sonic the whole place, the figure stuck out its hand, pressing gently on a jarred stone in the wall. The gummy stone shifted, the whole room vibrating, pulsing, and moving. He watched incredulously as the wall morphed into gelatinous complex, the visibility of something beyond appearing before him. Before long, the entire wall had melted into a coral-colored river of goop, revealing what he assumed to be the real 23 Maize Street. Once again, the Doctor was thoroughly impressed, despite his anger. For a moment, it had totally dissipated as he went over to the remaining walls, tracing his fingers over the small devices that lay buried discreetly in it.

"Small thermo-pulse rays activated by sub-electronic pulsating waves," the Doctor mused, a thin smile spread on his lips, turning back to the cloaked person who was carefully watching him. "The wall is solid until you activate the signal, which I am guessing is controlled by that very impressive vortex-manipulator on your wrist, and then **boom**! Tiny bursts of supernova-strength heat melts the wall in seconds, converting it to a gelatinous liquid that can re-solidify whenever you see fit! Basically, you own very powerful microwaves. It's quite clever actually…quite impressive for a black market dealer."

"Not dealer. Observer." The person corrected gently.

"Is that so?" the Doctor questioned, stepping forward to analyze the stranger properly for the first time. "And who are you exactly?"

Even under the shadows of the stranger's heavy cloak, he could see a smile work its way up their taught face. Laughing, almost against their will, the person dropped their hood to stun the Doctor into momentary silence. The stranger was a woman, and a very formidable woman at that seeing as though her tall, muscular form could've been confused with a male's. Though, that didn't make her any less lovely, with charcoal colored locks and sapphire blue eyes, she was riveting, but even more riveting were the spiraling tattoos that were woven across her face, interlocking to create beautiful, scrolling masterpieces. Just to drive the fact in deeper, she smiled to reveal rows of sharp, platinum teeth.

"You're Raefian." The Doctor managed, stating the obvious like an idiot. "I think…I've never seen one with such pale skin before."

"Ha!" she laughed, a light, airy noise that strangely fit her. "My mother was an Angel from the planet Caelum. I luckily inherited her looks, making me a little less feral than the Raeifans, thank you very much."

"I knew an Angel or two back in the day. Beautiful race of women. They all fancied me…"

She ignored the statement, rolling her eyes at his gaping mouth.

She moved gracefully over into the once-secret room, one that looked as if it could belong in a story book as a witch's lair or a gypsy caravan. Piles of books lied everywhere, on the floor, on the table, on the deep mahogany bookshelves that sagged under their weight, cases tall as floor to ceiling filled with various archaic tomes. Scarves and rugs and fabrics of all sorts were strewn about. A giant glass orb lied in the center of a grand mahogany dining table inlaid with gold and silver decorum where she had seated herself; her body reclined in a red velvet-lined throne encrusted with precious jewels. A bronze candelabrum hung from the wall, the ancient wax candles dripping onto the floor. There was a window near the ceiling that let out to the bustling city above. The light that came in told him that it was nearly nightfall. He really had spent quite a lot of time roaming.

"I must say I am impressed. Not many people make it out from Azander's quarrels alive, yet you managed to best him singlehandedly. You must've been very brave to take him on. Or very foolish."

The Doctor let out a wheeze of a laugh in disbelief.

"I didn't take him on; he provoked me," the Doctor said defensively, moving to sit across from her in another posh, yet ancient piece of furniture.

"Ah yes, for that I must apologize. I'm afraid I'm the one who let Azander loose on you. Not many people around here are as honest as you'd think."

"Really?" the Doctor commented, more as a statement than a question, one loaded with sarcasm and apathy.

"Really," she replied with a bite. "So, Azander and I have an agreement. He offers me protection from…outsiders, as long as I share half my profits."

"Must make business hard to come by, a large Raefian ready to cut their throats lest they get too close."

She laughed, her smile widening a tad, her teeth peeking out from the edges of her lips.

"Not really. Azander does all the digging on my customers, makes sure they are who they say they are so we don't get cheated out of profit. But then you come along, out of the blue. No records, no name, nothing. Just a big blue box that's just as mysterious. And you see, we don't like outsiders. You can imagine why Azander got…antsy."

"Hmm, so he doesn't like strange men around his possessions? I mean who wouldn't, really, just look at you, but cooping you up in this tiny shack, now that's a little much."

She was a little taken aback, her face blanching, straightening protectively with her body.

"How did you-"

"It's written all over your face. The way your voice raises when you say his name, how you flinched when you talked about the agreement, how your eyes keep darting towards the door whenever I get too close."

He was eye to eye with her now, their noses almost touching. Her eyes were frantic, dashing about and full of fear as if the roof would fall down at any moment, as if some devil would pop out of the doorway and harm her. She was shaking, that impressive, clever woman, was scared senseless.

"This has happened before, hasn't it? Strange men at your doorstep and they all end the same. He's killed people here, hasn't he? And you've seen it, every single one. And then to keep you quiet, he-"

"You shut your mouth!" She ordered lowly, her voice an angry, frightened whisper. She got up from the table, her chair picking up dust as she pushed it behind her. "Just because I am betrothed to a man does not ensure my affections for him. We are the last of our kind. Sometimes, in order to survive, we have to give up the things we want most."

A wave of empathy hit him, making him nauseas. _The last of their kind._ It was the same eerie tune he had been playing for years now. Same song different story and he could literally feel the woman's pain, his pain, a shared pain. His heart ached for her and her situation. The last of one's kind: It was a curse he would wish upon no one.

"I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean to-I mean I didn't know that-"

"You know nothing! What goes on between Azander and I is none of your business."

She cut him off, her voice loud and firm and dangerously strong. She had hate in her eyes and an intense fear paired with it, something the Doctor knew from experience was a lethal combination. She was pained by his callous words, he could see it, and now that he had said it, he really did feel remorse. He was shunned into an apologetic silence.

"Of course."

They stood in a pained, awkward silence for a while, her staring out at the wall, he fiddling with his coat buttons.

"Why have you come here?" she asked in a quiet voice, still staring at the ground.

"Because I need your help."

"With what?" she asked incredulously, her voice close to cracking. He could've sworn he saw tears prick in her eyes, but they were promptly banished. "You already claim to know everything!"

"But I don't, and that's why I need you."

Wow, did he really just say those words? Was he losing it, or did he actually admit defeat? Wow, the world really must be ending. He mentally swore to himself for his display of weakness, but he was glad he did, because she seemed to warm up to him, if only a little.

"Alright, so I'll ask again. With what?"

"My friend, she's having nightmares, but they're not normal ones. They're always the same, and when I tried establishing a telepathic link with her subconscious so I could see them for myself, there was a block, like a giant wall shutting me out, and I don't know why. But that's not the strange part. When I finally broke the connection, I started to forget what I had seen, and strangely enough, she did too. We were both forgetting at a rapid rate, as if the dream was trying to erase our memory. It's still hazy now, slipping by the second, details disappearing as we speak."

"Maybe someone else placed the filter in her mind."

"See, I thought of that, but when I ran a scan on her mind, the results came back negative. Absolutely no one tampered with her mind!"

She stared at him as if he were crazy, her hands on her hips, eyes wide and judgmental, as if debating whether or not to slap him for wasting her time.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, and I know it sounds impossible, but can you please try to believe me?! Can you at least try to help me?"

He was practically pleading with her, begging her to help him. The only thing that could make him more so would be if he were to fall on his knees and kiss her feet. Thankfully she didn't let him grovel for too long.

"And what makes you think that I can help you?" she asked with an annoyed sigh.

"Well, your ad did say you were the best dream worker in the western galaxies."

She smirked a little, her confidence and color back to her peachy cheeks.

"Alright then. Let's see what's plaguing you friend's mind."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Burning Through Time

Red. Dear God, so much red. It was all she could see, so powerfu that it physically burned the eyeballs behind her strained lids. Her ears rang in red to the pulses of color, licking like flames behind closed curtains, ghosts of screams all around her. It was an unseen horror, the true vision lying behind shades of red. Her head spun at the rising heat, the swirling, fleeting colors that wrapped tightly around her mind.

"_Amy…"_

It was _he_r voice, she was sure of it. Amy would know her voice anywhere, the only one that could sound musical no matter what she said. It was so comforting…yet through the red veil, it shoved shivers up her spine. Amy's eyes flew open before they were assaulted with blinding light, the technicolors swirling in her vision. She jerked her head to the side, moving away from the harsh light. The movement caused her to come in contact with cold metal, and in that shock there was a face, _her_ face, looking down upon her with worried eyes.

"_Amy, can you hear me?"_ she asked, but the voice was too loud now, too aggressive and low. Her face, her complacent smile was fuzzing and Amy tried to swat at the woman, her hand missing by a mile. The light was hurting her, making her brain throb, and she tried to turn away from it.

"Go away…" she moaned weakly, trying to escape the uncomfortable sensation of sensual overload. She tried to close her eyes, but only red met her there. She couldn't win.

"_Amy, Amy look at me!" _

She felt hands on her cheeks, holding her face firmly in their grasp, forcing her to look up. The light was still all around her, but as she calmed, the touch somehow relaxing her, she could see the colors fade; her blinks no longer saw red. The woman's face was gone, her soft features blurring, reshaping into something new. The yellow faded to brown; the deep blue sharpened to a lighter, greener color. After a few moments of disorientation, the spots in her eyes vanished completely, bubbling away to reveal a new face, a very worried face.

Rory's face.

He looked so distressed, cupping her face in his palms, searching her eyes for recognition, his own jade spheres clouded and misty. It took her a moment to realize, through his possession of her face to the beeping coming from all around her, that something had obviously happened. But what? Weren't they just walking on the sky-walk?

She shoved the thoughts out of her mind long enough to sit up to gather her surroundings. The metal bench she was laying on creaked under the shift in her weight, and she felt a cord tugging against her scalp which she pulled off with a sting. The sensor attached to the end went crazy beeping and setting off a machine resting on the adjacent table. There were two more on her chest that came off easier, but still made just as much noise. It made her head throb, and she shuddered back, lowering her head from Rory's grip and into her own, hair covering her face as it hung, her fingers pressed adamantly against her temples.

"Make it stop…" she pleaded pitifully, and Rory who was too pale and scared for his wife's wellbeing, called in a nurse who happily complied. She was purple in skin color and a little on the chubby side, but her bubbly presence assuaged Amy's burning mind as she took her heartbeat and had her do a few simple tests.

Rory held Amy's hand through everything, hanging on the nurse's every movement, every sound and word. Amy felt so horribly about worrying Rory; she knew how much he could overreact, and God only knows what he thought had happened to her. She squeezed Rory's hand comfortingly, and she smiled at him to assure him that she was okay. He seemed to smile back, but it wasn't heartfelt.

Amy answered all of the woman's questions with Rory by her side, and when she finally left, Amy let out a huge sigh, slumping into Rory's open embrace. She was so tired, and she didn't even know why.

Why was she even here in the first place? She was perfectly fine.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his chest. "I don't know what happened up there…"

"You're fine now, and that's all that matters, right?" he replied softly, leaning back to examine her. It's not like he didn't trust the nurse, just he needed his own look at her, his own assurance that his wife was truly safe. "You sure you're okay? Anything you need? Feeling lightheaded or woozy at all?"

"Rory, I swear to you, I'm fine," she stated firmly, holding his gaze with all her confidence. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm here in the first place."

"You're joking right?" Rory laughed nervously, trying to tell if she was pulling his leg or telling the truth. The wide-eyed yet annoyed look on her face told him the latter. "You really don't remember?"

"No. Far as I could tell we were having a wonderful afternoon," she said defensively, pulling and re-fixing Rory's shirt collar.

"Amy, you collapsed. You passed out right there in the middle of the crowd, in my arms…you were burning up. I thought you were catching fire."

Rory's last sentence came out strange, almost disturbed, but it shook Amy up more than him. Fire. She could still feel the sting on her skin. There was so much red…but where was there red? Where did she see red? Red and smoke, and deep blue eyes. Her own eyes glassed over as she tried to grasp at the fleeting memories. They were right at the tip of her tongue, but just as soon as she saw clarity, the fragments of dreams shattered and fled. She strained against her limits, and it frustrated her to the point where she was crushing Rory's hand.

"Uh…Amy…" he smiled painfully, gesturing towards his now purple hand. She released it instantly, and saw that it now contained her fingerprints and five nail marks. Her face flushed in shame. Could she get ahold of herself; what was going on?

"Sorry…" she mumbled, trying to think and process their current situation at the same time. Eventually she gave up on the memories, deciding that they weren't her first priority…at least now.

"It's okay. Are you?" he asked with all of his honest concern. It didn't take a genius to tell that she was upset about something, and Rory was always gifted at reading Amy's moods. It took him years to be able to do that, but he was grateful for it. He would hate to have her suffer, and that was why it killed him not to know how to help her now. He suspected this had to do with what she was talking to the Doctor about earlier; she thought he hadn't noticed their anxiety, their whispered voices. It made him mad until he saw the agitated, flustered state that conversation had placed her in. She had been unlike herself all day.

Still, much like she had all day, she smiled warmly at him. "Yeah, I'm good. Promise. Now help me up will you?"

Rory took Amy's arm and got her up on her feet. She shook a little bit as the vertigo caught up with her, but Rory caught her before she had the chance to stumble. She smiled in thanks and let go of his hand, her sense of balance returning long enough for her to take a few steps.

"We should probably get going now, huh? Don't want to keep the Doctor waiting." She still felt shaky, and frigid. Her face was too white. Something was wrong.

"Are you sure? I mean, you just woke up from fainting. We don't have to rush and if you're not feeling well…"

She stopped listening to her husband, his voice drowning into the quiet hum of machinery. She rested the palm of her hand against the sterile white walls, cool to the touch. They flowed seamlessly into the floors, the tiles gleaming with phosphorescence. There were screens on one wall along with a sanitary disposal case filled with too many needles for Amy's liking, and she scooted away from them. And, in the event of all of this, she was yet to glance upon any exit.

"Rory, where's the door?" she asked, concern and suspicions rising. As if noticing it for the first time, Rory did a complete 360 before he noticed the absence of the door as well.

"You know, I never noticed…" he said, scratching his head. "How did I miss that?"

"Well, how did the nurse get in?"

"I don't know…she just sort of appeared when I asked," there was complete horrified confusion on his face as he tried to think about what had happened. "How is that possible?"

"Rory…we need to get out of here."

The thought of being locked inside of a hospital room set Amy on edge. She hated the places so much. The terror that gripped at her from the thought of being stuck, forced to be operated or tested on made her heart pound. She didn't know why she was so upset; there had to be a logical reason or answer to the lack of a door. After all, this hospital was trying to help her. But, the walls were too cold, the place too quiet. There was _something_ that just made her uneasy. Perhaps it was all the travelling, the not trusting anyone, that made her unwilling to see the good in something as innocent as a hospital without jumping to the nightmares that may or may not live there.

Rory had started to feel his way across the walls, groping for a panel, a ridge, something to indicate a way out, but nothing gave way. Amy started to pace as the clock on the wall above ticked idly by. It wasn't any time she was used to, but she didn't have to be an expert on alien solar patterns to know when she had been somewhere for a very long time. The nurse had yet to be seen; Amy was sure this wasn't just her imagination.

"This cannot be possible…" Rory said frustratedly, sighing and pacing around the segment of wall he was sure the nurse came from.

"Okay, calm down," Amy tried, closing her eyes to push away the headache forming from her stress and fear. "We just have to think. There has to be a way out of this place."

* * *

"Concentrate…"

The Doctor placed his hands into the woman's, closing his eyes and trying his best to open up all of his psychic channels. However, it was hard to be open when he didn't even know what he was opening. They sat there in the silence of darkness, candles flickering around them in a spiritual hexahedron. Her face was shrouded in blackness, but he could tell she was straining. She was delving deep under the layers of his mind where the sub-waves laid.

It was almost peaceful, her skilled, graceful presence in his mind. It had been so long since someone had touched his mind that deeply and even though this was strictly business, and there was no connection between them, it was nice to feel some familiarity, some closeness beyond the physical again.

"There is…something…I don't know. It is very weak…" she muttered, her voice snapping him back to the present. He was sure she had felt the shift in his wavelengths, and had to remind himself to be more careful with his thoughts now that there were two people running in his mind. He could feel her deeply diving, parting the layers of thought and memory around her as she searched for what they needed.

She was swaying noticeably. He could see her head moving, her other hand reaching for her temple. It must've been weighing on her mind. Even he could feel the pressure increasing.

"It's slipping…I can't read it…" she whispered with an edge, obviously frustrated that she couldn't read the signal. "It's shifting…almost as if it's running…"

"Keep going," he encouraged. He was desperate to get the signal, to solve this mystery, and so tired of not knowing. Anything that could evade him couldn't be good, and it would be the death of him if Amy was hurt because of his neglect.

"I am trying…" she whined. He could feel her palms growing hotter, her grip tightening. She was going to burn herself out if she kept on pushing, but he didn't stop her. She couldn't stop now.

"Ah!" she screamed as a bolt of pain seared through her mind, breaking the connection.

"NO!"

The Doctor had felt it too, his own mind reeling from the intensity, and he could feel the dream, that thin fiber of signal float away. The candles blew out; the aura shattered to pieces. He knew all too well that the memory would fade all together sometime soon. He pounded his fists on the table, seething, as the woman cradled her head in her hands, her body leaned across the table top. Silently, somewhere in the darkest recesses of his more Time Lord mind, he wished she had burned up in her failure. But the thought even scared himself and he got up from the table, pacing the room in fast steps.

Slowly, after a few moment's pause and wiping off the sweat on her forehead, she got herself back up.

"That… was one of the most dangerous pulses… I have ever felt. Whatever has been afflicting your friend is powerful indeed," she gasped, holding her chest, trying to steady her breathing.

"It doesn't matter. It's gone, and now Amy's going to be subjected to…to …" the Doctor trailed, his mind already fogging.

He could tell from his tone that he had startled her with his callous anger. Part of him wanted to apologize, because really, he did understand. But the more prevalent angry side that was steaming was more focused on staying the bad guy, and so his eyes remained as dark and sharp as his tone. He refused to look her in the eye, and there was an unmistakable silence for what felt like an eternity.

"You said it causes memory loss?" she asked, finally plucking her courage back up. Now composed and curious, she began rummaging through some bottles on the counter.

"Yes…and I think it's already happening. This is faster than before."

She nodded and pulled out a dusty bottle covered in scrolling script that matched the markings on her face. This time it was her turn to ignore his looks. Getting out two glasses, she poured them both some spirits, a ghostly blue foam reaching from off the sides, billowing down to the old polished mahogany, and pushed one glass towards him, motioning for him to drink. She knocked hers back with a slight grimace in a few seconds, the smoke curling from under her ruby red lips.

"This is a memory elixir. The side effects aren't the same for everyone, but it will help you remember for a while," she nudged it closer to him, but still the Doctor refused the potion. She was growing impatient by his childish behavior. "The quicker you drink, the more you will recall."

The Doctor eyed the drink suspiciously for a few more seconds, skeptical of whether it was really an elixir or poison, but the pros of taking it definitely outweighed the cons at the moment. And really, what choice did he have? Either drink the elixir and possibly end up regenerating from Raefian poison, or not take it at all and end up starting at square one again. With no other option, he gulped down the hellish drink, ignoring the bitter taste of metal. He waited for death with bated breath, but nothing happened. He was fine; no poison.

"Did you really think I was trying to kill you?" she asked amused, smirking at his emotion of slight surprise.

"Well, it's not like you didn't try before," he shot back defensively, a little embarrassed that he thought so lowly of her.

"That is true, but now I am much too curious about your friend's condition. You do remember her condition, do you not?"

It took him a minute of concentration and digging, but he finally unearthed the signal. It was pulsating, writhing in his mind so badly that he could barely get a clear read on the dream, on his stolen memories.

"I do…but it's not all there…" The Doctor winced as the memory lashed out, sending painful signals all across his mind. "Cheeky little devil, this one…definitely not what I am used to."

"That is to be expected…the elixir cannot retrieve all visions, and this signal is very clever. I'd almost like to say that it's alive."

He stared at her with incredulity, eyes wide. He would've laughed had she not looked so serious and had he not considered it before, if only for a split second.

"That's impossible," he finally replied, but he was shaken in his beliefs, and found himself chanting old, school text books as if they served as some sort of proof. "Memories, _signals_ like this are not alive. They are what they are: Signals. That's it. Nothing else."

"I know, but whatever _this_ is, we have severely irritated it. The signal will not surrender itself without a fight."

"How can a sub-telepathic wavelength put up a fight?" He asked again, his voice raising an octave like it did when he was completely confused or irked, and right now he was both. He was in no way an expert on brain waves, but never in all his years had he heard of telepathic signals putting up a fight. Their owners could fight, but not the signals themselves, and that begged the question: Where were these signals coming from. She seemed to read his mind, for what he said next answered his question, though not with the answer he wanted.

"I do not know. This case is truly unique. The wavelength is smart, stealing away the signals it previously sent. The only reason we were able to catch it at all was because there are still fragments of the signal buried deep in your subconscious. The signal must not have finished its job before we found it." She averted her gaze to her window, lost in her own train of thought. "You know, usually the first thing I do is scan the mind for the source of power, but you don't have one. It's as if the signal just appeared out of thin air. It makes me wonder… who is powerful enough to send a message so far across the galaxy - only to have it erased none the less! Because if it was anyone on the planet, I could find them with ease. But there's no trace of telepathic activity anywhere. None. Isn't that amazing? Just imagine it, all that power inside of someone, desperately trying to reach out, never to be heard…"

The Doctor processed this with a heavy heart, trying his best not to think of the Time Lords and how common mental messages were only a few hundred years ago. Had the universe really forgotten them that fast? Or was it just him that refused to move on? If only he could allow himself to believe the message was Gallifreyan, but he knew that was impossible. He was alone. So alone, and that was how it was always going to be, had to be. No exceptions.

He had to force those ideas away as he remembered once more where he was. She was waiting for him to speak, to voice his own theory, but he had nothing. Instead of saying so, he focused on another part of what she had said, a less painful part.

"Is there any way you can resurface those memories? Maybe if we could see them, get a look at what it was sending, then I could have some clue on how to help Amy."

"I have tried. There is no way; the signal is too deep inside your subconscious to resurface, and is heavily protected. Digging it up would not serve you well. Whoever sent this did not want anyone else, not even the receiver, to see it."

She looked tired, as if her energy for this was waning once more as she had to face the cold reality of the situation. He, however, wasn't content with her assessment.

"Is that it? Is there nothing else that can be done? I'm just supposed to be okay with the fact that there is a possibly dangerous signal inside my head and Amy's and there is nothing I can do about it?!"

"I am sorry! But you are just a link, a secondary recipient. The signals in your head were not strong to begin with," she sat up straighter, more defensively, just like she had before when he had first pushed her buttons. He was about to retaliate when a thought literally ran him over with such a force that his face went blank.

"But what about hers?" He asked breathlessly, his mind still running through the stats of this idea, and if it could potentially work. He was almost making himself dizzy.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Amy is the direct receiver. She's been having nightmares for a while; the signals go directly to her. Are her signals stronger than mine?"

"Well, in theory, yes. Repeated exposure to the same nightmare, therefore the same signal, should lead way to strong, lasting wavelengths."

"And you could resurface those stronger wavelengths?"

She finally understood what he was getting at, and her eyes widened in shock. "I could try my best-yes. But I won't!"

"What?!" His face dropped quicker than a stone. "And why the hell not?!"

Anger flashed through him at her defiance. She looked pale and terrified, but he didn't care. How could she even dare to think to be so selfish? This was Amy's life they were talking about! Did she even care?!

"Because! Reading your brainwaves almost killed me, and they weren't even that strong! Who's to say that her signals will be any better, because we're not certain that hers are any stronger? Who's to say that, instead of being easier to surface, they actually fry my brain?!" she spat, her metal teeth glinting in her snarl. "I will not die for a stranger."

Her growing hostility was reaching a boiling point, worse than before when he spoke ill of her fiancé. He could tell she was closing off, distancing herself. Her fear was so evident in all her features. He knew that he couldn't ask her to die for him; he didn't want to lose anyone else by his hand, and he was sure that if he offended her again, then he would lose her permanently. He actually, to his surprise, sympathized with her and decided to take a nicer approach.

"I promise that no harm will come to you; you have my word. Just, please. Please help me. I need you to save my friend. Or at least try," he was near pleading, desperate to help Amy and to defeat whatever was causing her harm. He couldn't stand to see his best friend hurt. "Please, I can't do this without you."

All of this emotional turmoil he was experiencing was making him reach his breaking point. He just couldn't seem to catch any breaks at all over the past few hours. How quickly time flew when he had so little of it to waste for once. Usually time seemed so slow, but under pressure the days went by so quickly and the hours felt like seconds. Seconds Amy could be spending dying.

He reached for the woman, who at first looked with skepticism at the outstretched hand offered to her, but then, with growing tentativeness, she took it. Her face was still lined with fear and worry. She almost looked mournful, but he could tell that her decision had been made.

"Fine…I will help you. But, on one condition."

"Okay… anything you want, just name it."

"An escape," she stated, almost dreamily, but mostly with heaviness. "I want you to take me with you."

He was shocked. Literally, his mouth gaped. There was no response, and he marveled in the fact that his floundering mouth could actual form a semi-coherent response.

"Umm, well, you see, I don't really…" he started, fumbling with words. He wasn't really expecting this, especially not from such a headstrong woman. He was expecting something like money or a new crystal ball, not a runaway wish.

"Please," she said again, yearning and sadness in her voice. Her pleading had shown him a new side of her, a more scared, childlike side of her. He pitied her frowning, quivering face. "You said anything."

"But, I don't have a home. I travel, everywhere, never stopping, never resting," he tried to ration, pleading to her back. He didn't want to harm her any more than she already was.

"I don't care where you go, just please. Take me away from here."

He honestly didn't know how to respond, nor did he know if he really wanted another companion in the TARDIS. It was already crowded enough as it was. Amy and Rory would probably mind someone else butting into their adventures, but really, he didn't think that she would be too much trouble. She was a clever intellect, someone he could talk to about more than just domestic affairs. Besides, he couldn't leave her to suffer at the hands of that maniac of a fiancé. She seemed so frantic, so desperate to escape her life; he was scarily reminded of himself and immediately his decision was made. He knew what he wanted to say, what he knew was right in his hearts.

"Yes," he replied breathily as he held her shaking shoulders. He almost smiled a little bit. "I will take you anywhere you wish to go."

"Oh," she gasped, completely beyond appreciated. There were tears in the corner of her eye, but her pride refused to let them fall. "Thank you, thank you so much. You have no idea-"

"But you see, I think I do," He replied with a small grin, and she smiled back, thankful that he understood. They were kindred spirits, even if she couldn't feel it, he did. He felt closer to her than ever before, and was suddenly hit by the realization that he was happy she was going to be travelling with him.

"So, anyway, best find Amy sooner rather than later."

"Of course," she replied, returning back to the memories. "But I cannot trace her from your mind; your mind is too diluted. Too many voices to count just one. I'd need something stronger."

"I'm sorry but was that an insult?" he asked, a smirk growing prevalent on his face. She decided that he was much more appealing without the grim line plastered on his face. The smile made him look more…human.

"Only if you see it that way," she taunted, passing him by and blowing out all the candles. He hadn't even noticed that she had pushed him back into the empty waiting room while they were arguing. She reformed the walls, the gel rising to re-solidify against the concrete as she punched a code into the magnets.

"Are we leaving?" The Doctor asked, not really sure what was going on now.

"Well, we have to go and find your friend, do we not? We can't do that in here," she replied as if talking to a two year old. This was supposed to be simple.

"And how do you suppose we do that? Scour the whole planet; shout her name from the rooftops?" he asked, mocking her idea in his logical way, waving his arms around in front of her un-amused face.

"Well, do you have a better idea?" She asked with a bite, hands on her hips, lips pouted in such a stereotypical way that if it were Amy in front of him, he would've laughed. But, seeing as though if he laughed at her he may get a horrible case of psychic backlash, he refrained. Instead he replied with a practiced cool.

"In fact, I do. Follow me."

And so, she walked curiously behind him as he wove around a few blocks, trying to remember the path to the hall where he had landed in. But all the streets looked the same and all the people looked just as shady. She followed in his footsteps, eyes rolling as he walked the grounds like a total tourist. They stuck out like a sore thumb, and that was never a good thing in these parts. Maybe it was just her, but she didn't want to get stabbed any time soon.

She leaned up over the Doctor's shoulder and whispered, "Where exactly are you taking me?"

"To my ship…if I can remember where I parked her…"

"Well, the docks are that way," she motioned, pointing in the complete opposite direction.

"She's not there."

"What? Are you telling me you parked your ship in the middle of the road? Where the hell did you find space to do that?"

"You'd be surprised…" he mumbled, not really paying attention to her comments. She could tell he was ignoring her, and she huffed out a hot breath.

"And this was your brilliant idea? Wander through the town and hope we run into your ship?" she taunted mercilessly. She didn't mean to be so mean, but really, he deserved some of it. He was a total jerk before. "Besides, what's so helpful about a ship anyway?"

"It's not the ship that's going to help; it's what's on the ship, specifically Amy's possessions and brainwaves."

"Brainwaves?"

"Yeah, my ship's kind of psychic. Gets into your head and records your brainwaves so it can recognize you…not really. It's more complicated, but I don't have the time to explain. She does other things too. You'll see," he was rambling on, clearly distracted with locating his ship to pay too much attention to her.

"That's mental…I don't believe you." There was no way he could be telling the truth. She thought, maybe for a moment, that he was insane.

"Well, wait and find out," he said with a smirk.

She was about to reply with something clever, but never got the chance. Instead, she fell on her knees to the sugar-stone street, the Doctor following close behind her.

A huge boom that tripped them shook the ground and set off alarms that sounded so loud that she could feel the vibrations pulse in her chest. They flashed blue, the code for an escapee or intruder. Her ears rang; she felt deaf from all the noise. She could see people running, and far off in the distance, from the top of the hill from where they were standing, she could see a fire coming from the hospital building. She didn't have to be a genius to put two and two together, but it didn't stop her throat from closing in panic.

This was bad. One look at the Doctor told her that he could sense it too. They had found Amy and Rory.

"Guess we won't be needing your ship…" she breathed out heavily.

That was the understatement of the century.


End file.
